My Way to You
by Babygirl49392
Summary: How do you find your way when you don't have a care, a prayer, or even know that you're lost? There is a difference between living life carefree and living carelessly. I found that out the hard way. AH, Non-Cannon *WARNING: Involves drug use and abuse*


**A/N:** Here's an O/S I wrote when I was asked to fill in for a challenge last week. Please Enjoy! :)

**Disclaimer:** All things Twilight related belong to the gorgeous Stephanie Meyer, only this plot is mine. Chapter and song titles are from the song 'My Way to You' by Jamey Johnson, and belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Warning: This chapter discuss domestic violence and rape. If you are uncomfortable with that, please stop reading now. Thanks.**

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**My Way to You**

**Chapter One: I Found You  
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She's been coming here every Friday and Saturday night for the past five weeks. Before that, I'd never seen her before. I don't even know her name. All I know is that she always comes alone, and never meets anyone or even says a word to anyone except her waitress.

Until tonight anyway.

He walked in and went straight to her table, sitting down without a word. After what seemed like a brief stare off, she seemed to be ignoring that he was even there. While he was talking and trying to engage her attention, she continued as she always has: sitting quietly and nursing each drink to the last possible sip.

As I watch him periodically throughout the night, I can't help but get a bad gut feeling from his body language toward her. And more importantly, hers in response to him. It wasn't what you would expect for a girl towards a guy, at least not one she liked anyway. I could tell she is very uncomfortable with him being there. But since he hasn't done anything physical towards her, I'm not able to do anything.

So, I watch. I watch her, like I do every time she's here, but I look over more often than usual. And this time it's not strictly in curiosity of her but of him as well.

I wonder why she lets him continue sitting there talking but ignoring his mere presence at her table. Why doesn't he just give up, admit defeat, and let her be.

Week after week I've wondered who she is, what could possibly be her story, why she would even be in a bar, alone, weekend after weekend. And then he comes in, only about half an hour after her tonight, and goes right to her, like he knew that's where she'd be. Almost as if he'd been meeting her here, at the same table, for years. But I know that's not the case. Well, at least not in my bar. I would certainly remember seeing her here before that first night five weeks ago.

The same goes for him. I know that I'd remember his face anywhere. His features are too detailed to be easily forgotten; especially his hair. The color is such that you want to bet that it's dyed but at the same time, it's so strange and unique that you just know it has to be natural, otherwise everyone would have it simply because it is unusual. And I know I've never seen that strange combination of auburn, bronze, and copper atop anyone's head before, so I'm sure he's never been in here before either.

I see him shift his stool closer to her slightly, and she tenses involuntarily to his new position to her. As he leans in closer and whispers in her ear, her back goes ramrod straight. Right as he reaches his hand out to touch her arm, my view gets blocked by a customer and I'm forced back into my reality and set to work on his order, pushing them out of my thoughts temporarily.

Unfortunately that first customer was just the beginning of the late night rush and I wasn't able to monitor them for the next couple hours. When I was finally able to get a break to look back over, it was nearing midnight and I knew that if she was able, she'd be leaving soon.

I look back over to her table, and immediately feel my blood boil. In the time since I last looked at them, he had moved his stool so close to her that he might as well have just sat on her lap. Then taking in her stance, I could tell that she was trying to stay as far away from him as she could, but refused to move her own stool as to not back down to him.

Looking for his hands, I see that he has one resting on the table beside his drink, and I can't see his other one, but notice that his arm keeps flexing, showing movement. I study her again, and notice that she becomes even tenser every couple seconds, and conclude that he is touching her and its unwelcome. But damn it, he's doing a great job at hiding it, so that no one can intervene.

As her waitress, my cousin Alice, comes back to the bar, I immediately make the woman a refill placing it on Alice's tray. She gives me a look of confusion without lifting her tray back up. Sighing, I nod in the direction of the table to get her to look.

"But she didn't order a refill; I just took her something about 20 minutes ago."

Nodding in understanding, I lean in closer to where only she'll hear me. "I know. But please take it to her. Tell her it's on the house. I just don't like how he's pushing her, and want to keep an eye on them, well him actually."

"Yea, I know. I keep trying to walk by, too close mind you, every half hour or so. I have a feeling that no matter what, it's not going to bode too well for her though." She takes her tray and walks right over to the table.

I watch as he instantly puts some space between them and brings his other hand to the table top. But then, something I wasn't expecting, almost like a switch was flipped, he becomes furious when the woman says something to Alice before looking back at me and nodding her thanks. I continue to watch when she turns back around and talks to Alice for a few minutes more, and he becomes increasingly angrier the longer her attention is on anything other than him. Not that I ever saw her pay him any attention, she never looked his way since he walked in, or even said one word to him all night; at least not any of the times I looked over.

As Alice walked back to the bar, I kept my eyes locked on him, waiting to see what he'd do next. When Alice announced her break, I nod in her direction but keep my attention on the couple.

Knowing that it was slowing down and that my two bartenders would be able to handle the bar on their own now, I walk to where I won't be in their way and lean against the back counter, never taking my eyes off the man.

I can tell that he's still fairly angry, though I can't possibly see why he would be, and that he's raising his voice to her now but with the noise of the bar and my distance I can't hear anything he says. I glance back to her to catch her reaction, and she's back to looking out the front windows and not taking any notice to him. Almost as if she's used to this behavior, which saddens me to think that might be true.

I let my mind wonder to her and her possible back stories before it turns to my more hormone driven thoughts and fantasies: Like me running my hands through her soft and silky brunette hair before sliding one to cup her face and brushing my thumb along the apple of her cheek as I meet her soft, plump, ruby lips with mine. Then as she moans from the contact, I brush my tongue along her bottom lip before pushing it past her lips to meet her own. Her hands become braver as the kiss becomes more heated, roaming my torso, tracing down my abs to meet the waist of my jeans, before running her index fingers along the start of the 'V' line my hips make as my pants rest low along them.

A soft push to my shoulder brings me back to reality, and I look over at Paul, one of my more experienced bartenders. He nods his head towards a table before yelling over the noise.

"Dude, you might want to intercede before it gets too out of hand." I sigh as I turn in the direction he motioned toward, thinking two of my regulars are drunk and arguing over the outcome of the game again. It has happened more times than I care to think about.

However, the sight that meets me causes my blood to run hot and me to see red. He has his hands on her, shaking her and trying to drag her to the doors, but she's putting up a good fight. Seeing how his hand is gripping her arm, and with her struggling, I know that she's going to have one hell of a bruise.

I waste no time getting to her side and grabbing her arm from him as gently as I can. He whirls around to face me, and fire shines in his glazed eyes. I keep calm and move to block her from his view.

"You need to go home. Sleep this off. Now." He stands there glaring at me and I can tell that he's contemplating something just before his fist flies and connects with my cheek. I stumble back, falling into her briefly, before Paul and Jake, the one bouncer I have, grab his arms from behind and start to drag him out of here, with him fighting them and screaming the whole way.

I look around the bar, and see that everyone's looking at us, more specifically her. Shooting looks at everyone and motioning them to return to their own night and business, I look to her. She's looking down, and for the first time ever, she appears shy.

"Are you alright?" She nods slowly but doesn't look up. I can see her arm already turning a dark purple as the redness starts to slowly fade. "Ok, well here, let me get you some ice and I'll walk you to your car. He might still be around." She lets me lead her to the bar but remains silent as I work to get her an ice pack. Alice shows up at her side with her coat and purse, and she accepts them without a word.

I gently place the ice to her swollen arm, and she winces slightly before taking it from me and holding it herself. I go to lead her way to her car or a taxi, but she stops and starts digging through her purse. I wait, thinking she might be calling someone to come get her, but when she hands me her credit card, I'm minutely in shock. I shake my head at her and hand it back, causing her to finally meet my eyes. My breath catches as I can see the sadness and emptiness in them. With them being such a gorgeous chocolate brown, they should never look that hopeless.

"It's on the house tonight. I feel it's the least I can do." She moves to push the card back into my hand, but with a brief contemplation in her mind, she sighs and drops it back into her purse and nods to me. "Do you have a car or a ride coming? Or… I can take you home, if you need." I see her weighing her options again as I continue to lead her out the door.

With her continued silence, I decide to just lead her to my car. It's when I unlock and open the passenger door for her that she finally speaks her voice just above a whisper.

"You really don't have to drive me. I can just get a taxi as always." Shaking my head, I softly rest my hand on the small of her back.

"It's really no trouble. They can close without me tonight with no problem. Besides who knows how long it will be till a cab shows up, and it's starting to snow and I'd feel better knowing that you made it home ok." At my mention of snow, she looks around us and up to the sky in shock, almost as if she hadn't noticed the drop in temperature since she'd last been outside or the light precipitation falling on her uncovered head.

Without a word, and still looking rather surprised, she slides in the seat without further argument. Closing the door once she's situated, I move around to the driver side, get in, and start the car, letting it warm up for a couple minutes before backing out of the space.

"Ok, where we headed?" She mumbles her address, and I'm grateful that I'm taking her home, knowing that she apparently doesn't live in the safest neighborhood in the city. And at knowing that, only adds another question to the million I already have about this mysterious beauty next to me.

It's not until I'm pulled to a stop in front of her house, that she says anything else.

"Thanks for the ride." I barely hear her over the sound of the engine running. She starts to open the door, and before I can stop myself, I turn the car off and move to get out too, causing her to stop her movement and turn toward me for the first time since we were in the bar. Giving me a questioning stare, she mumbles, "What are you doing?"

"Walking you to your door." I state matter-of-factly and finish getting out to meet her at the passenger door, she hasn't moved but to watch me walk around the front to the sidewalk.

"That's really not necessary. You've done too much already."

"It's honestly no trouble. I want too." She releases a breath and gets out carefully. I close and lock the doors and follow a step behind her to her door.

As she approaches the door to the building, she turns to face me again, gasping at me when she finally sees my face in the light. I know that it can't look too great, that guy did put all his drunken weight into his punch, but having had a few black eyes in my time, I know that it looks worse than it really is. Before I can get a word out to tell her this, she's right in front of me brushing her fingers over the swelling gently, causing me to flinch involuntarily from the coolness of her fingertips.

"Come on, I'll get you some ice." Grabbing my hand, she leads me into the building before I can even blink in the irony that our roles in this 'rescue' have suddenly changed.

I get my bearings as she's putting a key into her door and begin to protest, not wanting to intrude but really not willing to leave her company just yet. "That's really not necessary; it can wait till I get home. Besides it always looks a lot worse than it really is." She doesn't listen to me as she pushes into her apartment, holding the door open for me to enter.

Sighing in defeat, I cross the threshold and stuff my hands into my pockets. I hear her close and lock the door before she brushes past me and walks into the kitchen, expecting me to follow. I trudge behind her, taking no more time than acceptable to look over the room as I pass through it.

I'm happy with the difference in the feel of the inside of her place compared to the building it's housed in. Where outside is cold, dreary, and rundown; her apartment is warm, homey, and comfortable. Her style is simple, and there honestly isn't much when it comes to furniture or 'knick-knacks', only the necessities. She has a TV, but no visible cable box. Though, since she does have a few DVDs on one, yes one - I see four in the living room alone, of her bookshelves, I'm guessing she has a DVD player somewhere. Sitting on top of the book cases, are a couple of picture frames, none on the walls though.

Making it into the kitchen/dining area, I see her with a zip bag full to the brim with ice and she's rushing around looking for something, I'm guessing a towel to wrap it in. With a slam of one last drawer, she huffs out a breath of air and turns to me.

"Well, you can go ahead and have a seat; I've got to get a towel from my room. I'll be right back." She rushes past me, without another word or glance.

I sit in the chair closest to me and continue to take in her apartment. The kitchen is pretty much the same as the living room, nothing unnecessary and very much de-cluttered. The small dining area is actually a little nook where the hallway, kitchen, and living room meet; a place that really isn't meant for anything bigger than a two person table.

She's back and standing in front of me within a minute of being gone. She places the wrapped ice on my swollen flesh gently and I study her; really study her, for the first time.

Her dark brown hair is straight and flowing softly down her back. She has matching brown eyes that remind me of a bowl of rich, melted, dark chocolate. Her nose is cute and almost button like. She has soft pink lips, the top slightly plumper than the bottom, though her bottom lip is swollen and a deep pink from her biting at it since the scene at the bar.

Taking in her body, I notice for the first time that she can't be taller than five foot four or five foot five. She's slender, but not over or under weight, having enough meat on her bones to suggest she likes to eat and actually enjoy her food.

After a couple minutes, I realize that she's just standing there holding the ice to my face when I should very well do that myself. I reach up and lightly place my hand over hers, causing her to start out of her own thoughts. She meets my eyes briefly with a small smile before sliding her hand from under mine and taking the seat next to me.

"This really wasn't necessary. I don't want to intrude on your evening." She waves her hand as to actually wave my words off before using my words from earlier against me.

"It's the least I can do, what with everything you did for me tonight. I mean, it is because of me that you have that swollen eye in the first place."

I huff softly before responding. "Don't go blamin' yourself for this darlin'. This was all that guy that was harassing you."

I notice a hint of a smile as she looks at the table top, resting her hands on it before saying anything further. "You noticed that, huh?" I don't say anything and she keeps going not really waiting for a response anyway. "Well, I guess I get it. It's what you're supposed to do when you work in a bar right? Notice any and all signs that could possibly cause trouble." She looks up to me then, so I nod once slowly. "Yea, thought so. Well, I really don't know why he was there or how he found me. But I really shouldn't be surprised about that either. He is quite the determined individual when he sets his sights on something. And he wasn't that happy that I called him out on his shit and walked out a month or so ago." This time it's her time to puff out air but she doesn't say anything more.

After a couple minutes of silence, I come to a realization. "You know, I don't even know your name." She jumps slightly as I startle her again and then meets my gaze again sheepishly. "Sorry." I mumble softly. She nods and drops her gaze again.

"No, I'm sorry. Bella, my name's Bella."

"It's nice to officially meet you Bella. I'm Jasper."

Silence falls over us again, but it's comfortable, almost like we've known each other our whole lives. I don't know how long we sit in the silence before she breaks it, and to say I'm shocked by the subject matter she brings up is one of the biggest understatements ever.

"He's my ex." I look up at her when I hear her soft voice, but she looks to be in a daze, staring down at her hands twisting on the table top. "I left him, about six weeks ago now. I just couldn't take it anymore. It was always about him and what he wanted and when he wanted it. Never once considering my feelings, schedule, or what I might have planned. And I just couldn't deal with it anymore.

"One night, he left right after…" she drops off, letting the sentence hang in the air for a minute before continuing, "and my friend, Rose, flipped out when I didn't meet her like we planned. She waited two hours, and didn't try reaching me till I was already almost an hour late. I'd never told her the full extent of our relationship, if you can call it that anymore. All she knew at that time was that he was controlling and possessive, causing us to fight all the time. She didn't know the extent of those fights most of the time. Well, after another hour of waiting and trying to get a hold of me, she came over, to find the front door opened slightly." She takes a shaky breath before continuing, and I see the tears run down her cheeks, her eyes glazed over as if she's actually living it again.

"I guess he slammed the door so hard that it bounced off the frame instead of latching. She rushed in to a destroyed apartment. And having been over before, with his anal OCD tendencies, she had only ever seen the place in immaculate condition with everything in its rightful place and perfectly clean and glistening. So, of course, this only spiked her worry that much more. I'd never let on that our fights got violent with things getting broken or punches being thrown.

"She found me curled in a ball, clothes tattered and torn, in the center of our bed. For the first time, she saw me, really saw me, bruises and all. And she finally heard and saw all the signs that I'd unconsciously given over that last several months to what was really going on, screaming at her in her mind, berating herself for never realizing because of her own past" At this point her voice breaks and the tears run faster down her rosy cheeks. She sits up straighter, almost with a new resolve and determination.

"For the first time, I saw Rose look crushed, destroyed; just something less than confident. Then, without hesitation, she started packing up all my things, and helped me to get dressed. Taking me to the hospital to make sure nothing serious was wrong with me, I refused to tell them too much of what happened or even who did it, so they couldn't do more than a full exam and release me when I got the all clear.

"She took me back to her place that she shares with her boyfriend, Emmett. Other than that night at the hospital, she didn't push me for close to a week. She let me be, go about my classes and work, never asking for what had really been happening or for how long. After that week though, I guess she just got sick of my silence, because she set me down and told me her own story about when she was in high school and her first boyfriend. How she thought she was so cool because she was the only one in her class dating an older guy. Then, once he convinced her to move out of her parents, as soon as she turned seventeen, and live with him, he changed. He wasn't the sweet, reliable, gentleman anymore. She went into every last detail about the abuse, the rape…"

She pauses again and I hear the gasp, as I take a sharp breath, and for the first time she meets my eyes, almost looking like she forgot anyone was even in the room with her. When our eyes meet, it's like that is the key to the lock holding the flood gates closed. She loses what little composure she was maintaining and brakes down into gut wrenching sobs.

I don't hesitate a second before going to her side and pulling her into my lap, rocking her gently while rubbing soothing circles on her back and running my hand through her hair, lightly scratching her scalp. After an immeasurable amount of time, she's finally still and is back to crying silently. I wrap my arms around her, just to let her know I'm here.

Yes, we don't know each other, and she's literally been telling her worst possible life story to a total stranger. But that doesn't change that I feel completely like it's my life purpose to protect her and insure she never cries again. I've never felt this kind of pull toward someone, like I would rather die than to ever have to see her shed one tear. Looking at her tear stained face, all red and splotchy; I've never seen anyone more beautiful. And she is seriously way too beautiful to ever cry.

With a shaky breath, she continues her story, going into all the forms of abuse he caused her. I want to tell her she doesn't need to finish, that it's ok, but I get the feeling that for her sanity, she needs to, so I don't interrupt. "At that moment, I realized that I could make it out and still live a happy life. That I deserve better than Edward, I deserve to be happy. And that what he was doing, how he was treating me, wasn't love; no matter how much he said or tried to convince me otherwise.

"It was at that instant, that I knew I couldn't bottle everything inside and let him scare me. That in doing so, he would maintain power over me, my life, and my happiness. Looking at Rose again, I saw that her purpose behind telling me her experience was to comfort me and show me that everything would work out. It was her way of showing me that I'm not alone, and she really understands where I'm coming from. She has been the biggest godsend since she came to check on me that night. I couldn't have asked for a better friend." She looks to me again, with a small smile this time. I return her smile and give her a little squeeze.

"Um, well, what happened with him, um… Edward? I mean why was he there tonight?"

"Oh, well, the day after Rose came and got me, he was livid. There was no reasoning with him. And of course Rose and Em absolutely refused to let me be alone with him. So, that night, he came over trying to force me to leave saying he just wanted to talk. None of us bought it for a second, so even though I hadn't told them everything that happened, they knew enough to see that he was mad and to not leave me alone with him at any cost. So, Em went into the other room while Rose stayed with me while he 'talked'; though it was seriously just a huge yelling match on his part, until I got sick of it anyway." She chuckles lightly at the scene playing out in her mind, and I'm sitting with her still in my arms completely clueless as to what she finds humorous about this situation.

"Well, I got tired of him talking down to me, especially in front of my friends. So, I confronted him. For the first time ever I was standing toe to toe with him, yelling just as loud up into his face; finger and fist pounding into his chest punctuating each sentence as I let everything he ever made me feel roll off me and onto the deserving party. And it felt good too, great actually. He was so stunned by me fighting back, that Emmett easily came and pushed him out the door without a fight. And until tonight, I hadn't seen or heard anything from him."

I nod slowly, letting everything that she's told me tonight sink in fully. After a couple minutes of silence, she gets up off my lap and starts pacing the length of the kitchen. I stand too, allowing my tight and tense muscles the relief of getting to stretch and relax again. I stand there just watching her for about a minute more before I can't hold the question in anymore… "Why me?"

She stops pacing and faces me, with a look of confusion on her face. "Huh?" She mumbles, her brow furrowing even more.

"Why me? Why did you tell me all of that? You don't know me, I'm literally a stranger. And you said yourself that you have someone who understands and you can talk to about this, which, to my understanding, is why people usually go to someone they don't know in these situations, they have no one they know that understands or to talk to and are more comfortable with a stranger. So, why me?"

She stares at me for a couple more minutes before she paces again, this time in what seems to be frustration. Then as her pace slows, she explodes in the sense that words are coming out of her mouth so fast, I can hardly make them out and keep up.

"Well, that's just the thing. I don't know. I don't understand it either. And to be honest, I'm way more comfortable with you and talking about this with you than I am with Rose. I just have this draw to you that I can't get rid of, ever since that first night in the bar. I tried not to come back, it was supposed to be one night only, and I couldn't stay away. I'm so busy during the week that I really can't go out, I'm seriously only home long enough to sleep and shower if I'm lucky." She chuckles softly before taking a deep breath and continuing.

"I've wanted to say screw it, I can do without a few hours of sleep each night and have just two drinks. It'd be worth it just to get to be in the same place as you." She looks up at me, meeting my gaze and holding it for the longest time all night. "I go there, and watch you all night. I try not to be obvious as not to make a fool of myself before I could even get the courage to sit at the bar instead of a table. I happened by your place by accident, I had heard some other students talking about it before one of my classes. That first night I thought that it would be the perfect place to actually go out where Edward wouldn't be able to find me. For that whole first week when I left, I was so scared to even leave Rose's because I didn't want to bump into him, especially while I was alone.

"As soon as I walked into the bar, your bar, I felt safe and calm for the first time since I left. I didn't understand it at first, that is until I saw you the first time, met your expressive blue eyes for the first time. And it all seemed to fall into place, almost like I felt the puzzle piece finally click in the right way. And it just gets stronger each time I'm there, each time I'm near you again." She walks closer to me and grabs my hands into hers, playing with my fingers and running her hands all over mine while following her movements with her eyes. Looking back up to me, she entwines our fingers together, and a surge of electricity tingles its way up my arms to rest into my chest, warming my whole body. She smiles at me, and with the twinkle in her eye, I know that she feels it too.

"I just want to try something." I whisper and she nods in response, maintaining eye contact. "I've wondered about this since that first night, the very first time I saw you at the bar and looked into you beautiful eyes." She smiles at me again and I can only guess it's at the memory of that moment.

I run my fingers up her arms softly, before gliding them across her shoulders and cupping her neck in my palms. I run my right hand through her hair, while grazing my left thumb along her jaw. Bringing my hand through her silky locks and up to cup her cheek, rubbing gentle circles on the apple softly while tilting her head up slightly. I slowly lower my mouth to meet hers, allowing plenty of time for her to pull away, when she doesn't the sides of my mouth rise in a slow smile as my lips brush hers softly. I pull back for her reaction, only to see her eyes have slid closed and a look of bliss across her features. Bending back in, my lips meet hers again, this time though we work together, massaging our lips together. I start slightly when I feel the warm moisture of her tongue outline my bottom lip, silently asking for entrance.

And in the one moment that our tongues meet, I've never felt more at home.

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**A/N:** Please review. :)


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